


Sunrise

by sinnamonrollcecil



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Jefferson/Madison story based off of In The Height's Benny/Nina, M/M, and Jefferson knows French, and why not, because sunrise is a really nice song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:08:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7175003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnamonrollcecil/pseuds/sinnamonrollcecil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was greeted by the tanned, familiar face of a man. The man had slight facial hair and wore a pale blue turtleneck sweater that seemed to be a size too small. A head of corkscrew curls messily framed his face and the other student had to hold his breath for a moment in amazement at how someone could look that casually flawless so early in the morning. <br/>    Thomas...<br/>    {A Hamilton/In the Heights crossover with Jefferson and Madison<br/>    Based off the song "Sunrise" from In the Heights}</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise

Beep.   
Beep.   
A gentle knocking came from the window leading to the fire escape of the college student's apartment.   
Beep.   
Beep.  
The dark-skinned boy, rolling on to his side with a groan.  
Beep.   
Beep.   
The student sighed as both the alarm and knocking continued. He got up carefully, going to the curtained window and opening it.  
He was greeted by the tanned, familiar face of a man. The man had slight facial hair and wore a pale blue turtleneck sweater that seemed to be a size too small. A head of corkscrew curls messily framed his face and the other student had to hold his breath for a moment in amazement at how someone could look that casually flawless so early in the morning.   
Thomas...  
The student opened the window and climbed out to meet Thomas. That's my sweater, he noted, noticing the sewn-on "J.M" on the arm as the taller student raised a hand to give a silent greeting.   
"James."  
"Thomas."  
The names were spoken and the two were thrown back into the field of silence, half comfortable half awkward. A while passed.  
"...are you ready to try again..?" Thomas asked quietly. James blinked and looked at him. He gulped and rubbed his arm. Should they really try again? Last time was such a disaster, but he had been working so hard and practicing since then. He gave a nod.   
"I think I'm ready," James glanced quickly inside the window and Thomas took the hint, climbing with the shorter student back into his bedroom. A small smile came across his face.  
"Okay," he murmured. "Here we go.."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Coin."  
"Corner."  
The two sat at James' kitchen table.  
"Boutique."  
"Store."  
Their voices drifted softly and filled the apartment with sound other than the radio's quiet music.   
"Ampoule."  
"Lightbulb."  
Thomas looked up from the written notecards, seeming skeptical.   
"You sure?"  
"I'm..." James glanced down for a moment and gulped. "Sure."  
The taller of the two smiled at the nervous student. "Three out of three, you did alright!"   
His smile.   
Oh damn, his smile. James gulped again, having to force his eyes to focus on something other than staring at Thomas' (seemingly very soft) lips. He chose to look at his eyes, something any normal person would politely do while having a civil conversa--  
Shit....  
His eyes were shining (with what? Pride? Relief? Happiness? He couldn't tell.) and that barely helped James keep his heart in his chest. He set his hand on the table, taking a deep breath before speaking up.   
"Well.. teach me a little more..."  
Both Thomas and himself seemed to be surprised by his request. The other's smile faded from his face slowly as he gulped and looked down quickly before looking back at James' hand that rest a few inches from his own.   
"Chaleur..."  
It took James a few moments before replying with a just as quiet, "Heat."  
"Hier soir..."  
"Last night."  
He felt an impending atmosphere of guilt surround him, though he wasn't sure why.   
"Douleur..."  
"Pain."  
Thomas went silent for a few seconds. When he replied, barely audible to even the close other, he couldn't seem to meet James' eyes. "...that's right..."  
Realization swept through the room.   
Memories of the previous night- or as much as James could remember- flooded into his head and he gulped.   
Oh no..  
James opened his mouth to say something, but Thomas had taken a deep breath and cut him off, "Appelle-moi..."  
"C-Call me..." James stumbled over words, not wanting to do anything yet that would upset his friend further.   
"Bleu.."  
"Blue.."  
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.   
He wasn't ready.   
"Aime-moi..."  
He had known Thomas for forever- since they were kids. They were friends, best friends, and nothing more.. Right?  
"..love me."  
Right? The question repeated itself in his mind. They were friends, nothing more, nothing less, right? Of course! Of course. Of course...  
"Perhaps I do.."  
And James felt his heart skip a beat.   
Unhealthy, the hypochondriac thought, knowing in the back of his mind what it really was.   
He glanced at Thomas, who sat looking at his lap while nervously rearranging the 10 or so notecards with his right hand on the table.   
He   
Is  
Beautiful.  
James moved his gaze to the two's hands, which rest within an inch or two within each other. He slowly moved his own hand closer.  
Make a move, Madison.  
"...well how do you say 'kiss me'?"  
Thomas seemed to hesitate.  
"...embrasse-moi..."  
Don't freeze. Don't freeze.  
"And how do you say 'hold me'?"  
"..serre moi.."  
James tapped his finger as well now.   
"À l'aube..." he looked at Thomas, confused as to what he was saying. The taller man cleared his throat. "At sunrise..."  
'Anything at all can happen just before the sunrise...' Both thought silently, glancing down to avoid the other.   
"À l'aube..." Thomas voiced softly, moving his hand to grab James' own.   
"À l'aube..." James repeated with just as hushed a voice, glancing down at their intertwined fingers.   
Sunrise..  
Neither knew how it happened.   
Sunrise...  
Who moved first?  
Sunrise...  
Their hands were still intertwined.   
Sunrise....  
James was holding his breath.   
Neither knew how it happened, perhaps they leaned forward at the same time, but James knew he was soon locked in a soft kiss with his taller "friend".   
And he was sure he didn't dislike it.   
Thomas pulled away first, yet that was still after so much time that the breathing between the two had become heavy.   
"Continuez à marcher le chemin de la vie..."  
James looked at him.  
"Thomas.."  
"Sorry. Something my mom used to say..."  
He looks nervous, James noticed, and I am too...  
What was the kiss to either of them? On one hand, it was a silly thing that could easily be laughed about later on. On the other, it was what both James and Thomas knew was their growing affection on their "friend". The answer was easy: just play it off as nothing. It's what should have happened.   
But it didn't..   
James knew he couldn't. He couldn't just pretend it was nothing. Rather, he could lie and say it was all while wrapping his arms around the taller man and never wanting to let go. He doubted that would be very convincing.   
What was he supposed to do, then?  
If he ignored it, would last about a minute before he couldn't take it. Then he would confess to Thomas. Then, take it or leave it, something would happen. But what? It's not like they could openly be in some relationship. People would laugh. Poke fun at the "homoerotic affair". The jokes, the teasing, the comments-   
The thought alone made James sick to his stomach.   
Oh god, what will they say...?  
"Thomas..." James repeated the other man's name with a gulp, getting his attention by doing so. "I don't know-"  
"Je ne sais pas..." Thomas interjected softly, looking down. James thought for a moment, translating the French words in his head before continuing.   
"-what to do-"  
"Que faire..."  
"-now that I've found you..."  
"Maintenant que je vous ai trouvé..."  
James gulped again and dug his fingernails into his palm. "What will they say-"  
"Que diront-ils...?"  
"-when they see me around you...?"  
James wished he didn't see the heartbroken look Thomas gave him.   
"J-James.." Thomas whispered, staring at the shorter student, eyes glazing over and looking as if he were about to cry then and there. "What do you-"  
"-You know.."  
A silence fell upon them and Thomas quickly wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his (my, James thought) sweater. It was the club all over again...  
"I.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of t-that," Thomas' voice cracked a little as he stood from the table, turning to get ready to leave. He had corrected himself quickly, yet James noticed the pain in the second he heard it. "t-to ruin our.. friendship... I won't say anything about it. Just... Forget it happened.. Okay, Jem-" He stopped himself, continuing with a hollow-sounding voice. "..James..?"  
No.   
No, James wanted to say, no. Not okay.   
He didn't want to "forget it happened". It didn't "ruin our friendship". Thomas shouldn't have had to be "sorry". Last night, James thought, was the only night he said he would let himself see that kind of sadness in Thomas Jefferson.   
The night had ended bitterly. After Thomas' "Welcome Home" party, he had decided to pull James aside and confess whatever feelings he had for his best friend. His father had overheard. The Virginian man was furious with the both of them- no, scratch that, with James. For "turning his son into one of those people". For "corrupting Thomas". For being "damnable queers".   
James was fired from the job that kept him alive.   
He took Alexander's offer to go the the club and got drunk. Thomas tried to smooth things over (he has a bruise, James noted), but the other had just turned his anger on him. Both left, one more heartbroken than the other. It was because of James Madison that Thomas Jefferson was on the verge of tears then and was about to cry now.   
Not again...  
"Wait," James quickly reached out to grab Thomas' hand. The other turned back to look at him, surprised. He kept eye contact as best as he could.   
"H-How do you say 'help me'...?"  
"...Aidez-moi," Thomas replied softly.   
"And how do you say 'promise me'..?"  
"Promet-moi..." Thomas' eyes filled with another kind of sadness. "Promise me you'll stay beyond the sunrise..."  
"I don't care at all what people say beyond the sunrise," James gripped his hand and spoke firmly, with as much confidence as he could gather. Thomas looked down.   
"Promise me y-you'll stay-"  
James cut him off, moving his hand to cup Thomas' face gently and lift it so they met eyes again.   
"-I'll stay."  
"...Jemmy..."  
"Tommy.."  
Sunrise...  
They both knew how it happened.   
Sunrise...  
James had moved first.   
Sunrise....  
Their lips met.   
Sunrise...  
Their hands were still intertwined.   
Thomas pulled away first.   
"...and how do you say 'kiss me'..?"   
"Embrasse-moi..."  
"Embrasse-moi.." James repeated fondly.   
"Embrasse-moi..."  
Another quick yet loving kiss.   
"And how do you say 'always'?"   
Thomas smiled. "Toujours.."  
"Toujours."  
"À l'aube..."  
"À l'aube..." James moved carefully, pulling Thomas into a hug. "I will be there..."  
At sunrise....

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So my first story on here, taken from my Wattpad account.  
> Also, I apologize if I get any translations wrong as I am not fluent in French and used Google Translate to help, which I know isn't the most accurate of translators out there.   
> Hope you enjoyed reading.  
> Thank you! 
> 
> ~Cecil


End file.
